There were times when I could lay in Nick's arms forever. He knew how to hold someone - close but not tightly. Only a few lucky times had I waken up before him, and that was one of those times.

Reaching my left hand up, I traced the soft skin of his collar bone, my fingertips falling into the indents. A soft sky escaped my lips. The blankets had been kicked to our thighs; my only source of warmth being the boy beside me. The material of his shirt had lifted from his side, revealing his hip and the very bottom of his rip cage. It wasn't right, how arresting his appearance was. If I was being honest, his personality was just as golden. I wondered if he knew that.

Snuggling closer into him, I breathed in the fresh, clean scent of his shirt. His hair smelled like tea-tree oil shampoo and was soft to the touch - feathery. The way sunlight caught his lashes and angles was capturing. He stirred slightly, face tucking itself into my wavy blond hair, arms tightening just slighting around my arms and back. Coiling in on itself, my stomach spazzed. My cheeks flushed to a pastel shade of pink and the room was to warm. Too warm. It was like I was uncomfortably comfortable.

Swallowing hard, i pulled away from Nick, slowly, and quietly worked my way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Tapping my index finger on my chin, I pondered over how to spend my time waiting for Nick to wake up. Seeing as he had done so much for me, it was only right I did something nice for him.

So I set to it, pulling out a small packet labeled 'chocolate-chip muffin mix', an egg, and milk. I mixed the ingredient, then put them in the microwave oven to cook. While the timer ticked away I stole a quick look at a still slumbering Nicholas. I was baffled by the way he was asleep at nearly nine am. He could use the beauty rest.

The microwave oven ringed, causing me to rush over to it and grab the hot pan. Cursing, I shook my hands violently before finding an oven mit and pulling out the muffins. My palms and fingers burned. After setting down the muffins, I turned on the faucet and ran the cool water over my heated skin. There was nothing like the relief of water on a burn.

Around that same time, I heard Nick begin to stir. I didn't have much time left. Quickly, I used a fork to pull the muffins out of the container, than set one large ugly cupcake on plate. Stowing the fork and pan in the sink, I rinsed them quickly and seperated the two dishes on the counter.

Whipping around, I gasped and placed a hand to my heart as Nick was standing in the doorway. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, blinking slowly in early morning drowsiness. I smiled, " morning."

" morning Angel. What smells good?" He asked, eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

" Well." I started, as he sat on the couch. Handing him a muffin, I continued, " You've done a lot for me, so I figured it was the least I could do... make you breakfast, that is." And just like that, I had no vocabulary.

I hopped up on the counter and started to eat my own muffin, knowing that if I tried to speak, I'd sound like a newborn. On the other hand, the muffin was alright. It was a little burnt on the outside and I hadn't mixed the chocolate chips very well.

Nick gingerly bit at it, a pleasant smile gracing his lips. It grew a little as he ate, like he couldn't contain a burst of happiness exploding inside him. He was practically beaming. After he finished, I took his plate and rinsed it off, throwing away the papers. We I turned around, Nick was quite close to be directly behind you. We both took a step back, alarmed. Then he smiled again, one corner of his mouth tilting up more than the other, " thanks Angel, that was wonderful."

I smiled back, my cheeks warming in a way I wasn't sure I liked, " Of course. now get dressed." I pointed to the bedroom.

He rolled his eyes, chuckling softly, " ready to go already?"

I looked down at myself, still decked out in pajamas, " um, no... but i'll get dressed after you do."

" Right." He said, with a wink. His shoulder brushed mine as he turned to enter the bedroom, and a little burst of tingles spread out across my first layer of skin. I shivered.

While he got dressed, i cleaned the dishes and put them away. We switched out, Nick starting the van while I put on a fresh pair of skinny jeans and a tank top. Walking to the front of the vehicle and falling into the passenger seat, I said, " One of these days, I'm gonna drive this bad boy."

" It might be today." He said, casually.

" are you being legit?" I replied, sitting up in my seat.

He shrugged, " Sure. I trust you not to kill it."

" Him." I corrected, " The van is a him."

" ah." Nick said, with a sigh, " forgive me."

" I'll let it pass this time. But you mess up again and I'm kicking you out of him." I replied, propping a leg up on the dashboard.

" yes ma'am." Nick replied, with a firm nod.

I snickered and shook my head, turning on the radio for something good to listen to. Backstreet boys' song Show 'Em came on, and I got an odd look from Nick while I mumbled every single lyric. So sue me, I knew all the words.

As the song ended and Come With Me Now by the kongos came on, we both started to rock out. Nick had this thing where he would move with the music. It's like the lyric and the sound pulsed through him; he could feel every beat, every measure, every last drop and lift the verse had to offer. It was connection to music that I didn't have nearly as strong.

" Why are you so musically inclined?" I asked, as Come With Me Now ended and I turned down the radio.

He shrugged, " what do you mean?"

" music moves you. It's like it consumes you or something. Don't you play instruments?" I asked, interest plaguing my tone.

" yeah." He said simply, " I play a lot of instruments."

" so how then?"

" I don't know. It's easy for me." He said, eyebrows pulling together slightly.

" so you can just pick up an instrument and play it?"

" pretty much, yeah." He replied.

I couldn't believe it. I'd have to see it, " find the nearest music store, now."

" you okay angel?" He asked, a look of concern etching it's way into his fine features.

" nope! Now find one." I said, crossing my arms.

• • •

So he did.

We pulled up to a not-to-shabby looking music store. It was one of those single outlet places that held a sort of magic gust around it. Walking through the doors was like breaking the walls of physics and entering the realm of serenity.

A gangly male with bird's nest hair had his face stuck in a sheet of music. I didn't think people read those for fun. With one expectant glance at Nick, I walked up to the boy, " excuse me."

His head pulled away from the sheets, his eyes met mine through horn rimmed glasses, " yes, what is it?" Slender not gangly. British not American.

" I need every instrument you can let us play." I replied, chin hinting up just slightly. My gaze caught his and I found myself interested in the way his eyes looked like liquid gold.

He set down the music and sighed, " why, may I ask?"

" my friend here says he can play any instrument he's presented with. I want to know if it's true." I said, jabbing my thumb towards Nick. He gave a solute, smiling that crooked smile of his.

" that's impressive." The boy said, returning this blossoming grin, " I'd like to see that myself."

" sure thing." Nick said. Then he stepped forward and asked, " do you casually read sheet music or...?"

Another darling smile, " yes, actually?"

While Nick reached over the counter to grab the music, I asked, " how does that work?"

" I hear the melodies in my head. I can read the staff like people read words, so to speak." He explained, " If I find a piece I don't like, I move on. Much like stories. Like that." He finished, nodding to Nick. The boy behind me was casually humming to song I didn't know - the song he was reading.

Noticing the silence, he raised his head and frowned, " what?"

I gawked at him, " you can just pick it up and know it?"

" it's not rocket science." Nick said.

" though that isn't very hard either." The employee added in a mumble. He had found another sheet of music and was casually paging through it. I recognized it at as Bach.

I groaned, " I'm trapped in a store of music prodigies. Lovely."

The Brit laughed, " don't mind us. To the instruments then?"

I nodded, and he started to lead us towards the back of the store. Suddenly, he added, " I'm Max, by the way."

" Nick." Arson said.

" Carter." I added, a little amused.

We entered a little area of acoustics. Nick pulled at a few strings of the guitars on the wall. Next was a brass section, then woodwinds. Foreign instruments. Pianos. Beat pads.

I had lost Nick a room ago.

Turning slowly, my eyebrows laced together at the sound of a light piano. It sounded like he was only using one hand, as if testing the glossy keys - learning the feel of it's muse under his hand. His eyes closed as he became enveloped in the piece laying itself out before him.

His other hand came up to the keys, adding a darker undertone, than a lighter, than a darker. The two parts tied together to open the song, the petals of it's verse blossoming out into a melody so raw I felt it slip it's way under my skin. A sorrow hung beneath the clutches of it's grasp; the chords were mapped out perfectly. I could have melted.

The song started to grow lighter. His fingers softened on the keys. Then, they sped up again, moving the song forward towards it's ultimate closing.

Nick swayed slightly with the tune, feeling it's every pulse - like it was just as alive as him or myself. He played breath into it, bringing it to life. I realized that the way he understood music was grand, out of my scale of understanding. I took a few steps closer, holding my elbows. My heel gently tapped with each beat. A soft sigh escaped his lips as the song eased up, a decrescendo leading up to it's final, light, hit.

Behind me, Max clapped, " that was beautiful, my friend."

Leaning back, Nick took his hands off the piano and rested them in his lap, " thanks." a pleasant, yet crooked, smile touched his lips.

" Play something else." I said, eagerly.

Cracking his fingers, he shrugged and placed them on the white bars once more, " what do you want to hear?"

" Benjamin Buttons." Max chipped, crossing his arms.

Arching a brow, Nick smiled and started the song. It was simple at first. Three little notes going deeper with each strain. Then it opened with an old folky feel. It was simple and easy and light; all of the things that pulled at the heartstrings and watered the eyes.

I couldn't stand. Sitting next to him, he shot me a soft smile. The song explored what I guessed were some minor undertones, before flourishing into small little crescendos and diminuendos. Despite it's simplicity, it was just as moving as the first piece. His shoulder brushed mine as he moved, his leg bouncing in time with the rhythm.

I closed my eyes and listened, slouching forward just slightly. Nodding my chin, I heard it unravel itself, then stitch all back together again. I hadn't seen the movie The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, but if it meant listening to this song again, I certainly would be seeing it soon.

Nick's shoulder bumped mine again, causing me to open my eyes and watch the way his fingers so lightly danced across the keyboard. It looked so easy when he did it.

The song then explored darker sounds, taking a turn for the more depressing aspects of music. It was just as beautiful; just as gentle. I couldn't explain the grace in which he played the song; his hands spidering on the piano like it was second nature. I could listen to him play all day.

He finished the song, and took a deep breath, " that's it then."

" and to think you can play more than just that." I said, " You're gonna have to teach me sometime."

A dashing smile curved his lips, " of course."

We stood, and he closed the top piano cover. Looking over at Max, he asked, " what else do you have?"

" I'd like to see you play a violin after that." Max said, slightly awed, " Not many people just know benjamin button off the top of their head."

" one of my favorite movies." Nick replied, fixing his beanie absent mindedly.

" I wouldn't have expected that from you." Max said, eyeing the boy.

A cheesy smile, " i like to surprise people." Then he added, " violin is one of the few instruments I haven't taken the time to learn. I'm not much of a string player."

" Trumpet? Clarinet? Flute? Saxophone? Chimes? You name it, I'll find it." The brit replied, turning and briskly walking into his abyss of musical instruments.

I looked around in awe. They had everything in this little store, no matter where it was from. I watched Nick contemplate what to play next. Arson shrugged, " When it comes to saxophone, I only know careless whispers. and thrift shop, but you know, that's an easy one."

" Classy." Max said, the word sounding utterly posh in his accent.

In the end, we handed practically everything to Nick: Trumpet, Flute, Trombone, Harmonica, bass, guitar, drum set, triangle, oboe, cello. You name it, he could probably play it. The only things we couldn't hand him were violins and a few african instruments that I was unaware of their existance. It was completely mind boggling.

After we had finished bombing him with pieces to play and movements to follow, he took a seat on the piano chair and said, " satisfied?"

He arched a brow. I blinked once, and nodded, " yeah.... You're music jesus."

" I guess?" He said, with a shrug. It came so naturally to him; like breathing.

Max sighed, a pleasant smile gracing his features, " Well, my day is made."

We sat and chatted for awhile before deciding it would be in our best interest to hit the road again. Waving at Max, I said, " bye! thanks for the instruments!"

" anytime." He replied, with a curt nod.

Clambering into the passenger side, I said, " that was awesome."

" thanks." Nick replied, with a dashing grin.

I pulled one leg up, wrapping my arms around my shin, " So what's your connection with music then?"

" What do you mean?" he asked. Here we go again.

" I mean, why are you so connected with it? what was your motivation for learning so many instruments?"

" well, besides my parents owning so many...." He said, casually, " It got me out of a dark place."

My eyebrows pulled together. Jericho had told me it was bad, but in reality I really didn't know the damage his parents' death did to him. Sitting in the car with him, I knew he was okay currently; I didn't know how he was before. Music could have very well been his anchor. It would make sense. The connection and the ease in which tones and moods showed themselves through his playing wasn't something people had and were bored with.

I realized it must have been his therapy.

" oh, I didn't realize..." I said. Instead of words, I just reached for his hand in the center of the console. His fingers naturally laced with mine.

With a soft smile, he said, flicking on the turn signal, " It's fine. Music is more of a hobby now."

I squeezed his hand. While the silence settled on our shoulders, a new question presented itself on my tongue. jericho had told me not to ask, but I had to know, " So you were a rebellious kid?"

His eyebrows pulled together, his grip tightening just slightly, " damn you Jericho."

" I never-"

" Don't even try." He said, arching an eyebrow. He spoke so much with his facial expressions, I was proud of myself for being able to read them.

With a sigh, I said, " Fine. Jerry told me some stuff but he was in it too. Anyways, I just want to know what you did."

He contemplated his answer, gaze flicking to different things in his surroundings before settling on the farthest point of the road, staring directly at the star line. He swallowed hard, " look Angel, I was angry alright? I guess I was done. I stopped everything. Literally everything. Quite any sports teams I was on, stopped eating, stopped starting conversations. When school started, I kept up my grades just so my grandparents wouldn't become overly suspicious."

So he really did stop. From what Jericho had said, I figured all of those rebellious things were the reason he worried that his dad wouldn't be proud of him anymore. I realized then that it wasn't the things he did that spawned the worry - it was the things he didn't do.

Looking over, I saw his lips set in a straight line: not smiling, not frowning. I sighed softly, " Yeah, we all do crazy things. I think the beauty of it though, is that they're not really mistakes, but things you go through to learn."

He smiled slightly. Then in vanished, " Angel."

" Nicholas Dean Arson?" I replied, forwarding my brows.

" I've done things I'm not proud of, but I wouldn't change them if I could." He said. Then he fell silent.

I looked out the front windshield, biting my lower lip in thought, " I wouldn't change a thing about you, past included."

" not one thing?" He said, arching a suggestive brow.

With a whimsical sigh, " well, maybe I'd give you longer hair or tattoos or something. And I'd make you gay... Oh wait." I frowned.

Chuckling softly, Nick thoughtfully replied, " I could use some hair to braid. Maybe dye it bright teal."

" Jesus, I'd have to fuck you with that kind of sexiness." I said, in the best serious tone I could muster.

Nick shot me a quick look, " get me some hair dye and extensions, I have a hot date. How do you feel about anal?"

I nearly choked on my own spit, " unless you want it in your ass, it ain't going in mine."

He laughed. That singular sound made a little zap go through my lungs and chest, " I'm open to suggestions."

Shaking my head, I replied, " a filter. I suggest a filter." But I couldn't contain the small smile that dressed my lips.

" working on it, Angel." He said, his usual tilted grin lighting his facial features.

Ignoring him, I let an ounce of silence ensue before saying, " what Instruments did you own?"

" when?"

" when you lived with your parents." I stated, simply.

" ah. You name it, we probably had it. We stuck with the more traditional things." He said, " they weren't really fans of tribal music."

" so you definitely had a piano." I confirmed.

He smiled, and it was one of those smiles that was small and impactful, and it completely spoke in memories, " basically, we had one in every room."

I shuddered at the idea of Nick's angelic playing gracing every room of a grandiose mansion, " that's awesome."

" it was pretty great." He admitted.

I made Nick tell me what else he had owned. Apparently he could play the violin, but was shy about sharing such knowledge. Apparently he could play many more instruments than Max and I had originally bombarded him with. " I didn't want to overwhelm you." He claimed. It was around that time that I realized he was humble about his music skills - bashful, maybe?

The thing was, Nick was extremely talented. Hell, the boy didn't even have to look at the instrument when he played. At some point in his life, he became so infatuated with music that it was his greatest interest. It truly served as his therapy.